


Solitare - A Dark Legends Chapter 4 Story

by Tarchannon



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel (Movies), X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men (Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: AU, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-11
Updated: 2012-04-11
Packaged: 2017-11-03 11:02:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/380678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarchannon/pseuds/Tarchannon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A plague visits the House of Xavier bringing death and dark changes. Remy reflects on what he's found at the Xavier Mansion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solitare - A Dark Legends Chapter 4 Story

**Author's Note:**

> 1) Originally posted 11/03/2002.

Remy had discovered the sauna during one of his late night explorations and, after an afternoon crawling in the guts of the X-men's defensive systems he needed it.

He turned on the heat and the steam both, then went to put his clothes in an empty locker while the room heated up. One wall of the locker room was plastered with photos and newspaper articles. Curious, Remy went over to look it over.

*Mutant terrorists deface the Statue of Liberty and attempt to murder the world's elite!*

There was a blurry photo of a black jet streaking off into the night sky under the headline. Other articles were much the same; terrorist group disrupts WTO meeting, attacks a club in Seattle and similar titles. Some of the more hilarious or bizarre lines had been underlined. There were also snapshots - quite a few of them. Remy rubbed a finger along the side of his nose and pondered stealing a few. They might be useful. There was an ensemble shot, all of the adults he'd seen at the mansion plus a few more. He raised his brows at the strikingly handsome blonde man with *wings* leaning on Cyclops's shoulder and grinning at the camera. That had to be Warren Worthington III. Remy touched the image. He'd gone out to check out the graveyard and one of the first stones there had been carved with a single word - Angel. Another casualty was the big metal man in the back - Pitor Rasputin and he'd died to end the first round of the Legacy plague.

"An dat's w'at it means to be a hero, eh?" Remy said softly. "Death and not as an old man in de bed."

It was strange to see Cyclops, Wolverine, Jean and the others in the pictures. They looked so - different. Cyclops was smiling - something Remy had yet to see from the gold skinned commander with the cutting voice he'd met the other day. And Jean Grey - Remy studied her photo. She had a hand on Cyclops's arm and her green eyes were dancing with amusement, as if she'd just stopped laughing. The laughter he'd heard from her had made Remy's skin crawl. Of all the inhabitants of this dark place, she frightened him the most. And made him the most angry.

He knew what was going on in the big bedroom at the end of the hall. Everyone did, there was no way to ignore the cries at night. Pain, pleasure, fear and raw need. The hiss and snap of leather on flesh - Remy knew that sound well. Remy had seen the marks and bruises on Cyclops's skin when he'd been dragged into their 'Danger Room' and put through his paces. Worse than that, he'd seen the look in Wolverine's eyes. A kind of fragile desperation and it infuriated Remy to see it. That woman was breaking the man.

"Damn dis virus." Remy whispered. The people in the photographs were not the people he was seeing now. According to Hank, it was the virus poisoning their minds, twisting their impulses. And if it spread to the human population at large, the effects would shatter civilization. Remy straightened up with a sigh. That's what he was here for after all, to make sure the virus was stopped. He hoped they'd be able to find a cure for the X-men and return them to their true selves but - ultimately - he'd sacrifice them all to save the rest of the world. They might not understand why now, but they'd been heroes once.

He grabbed a couple of towels with a sigh. After a little rest, he'd find a way to get out of the mansion and make his first report to Sinister. By phone. He had not intention of running into Sabertooth again. "Now, dere's a kitty dat needs a leash."

It was a thought that had a certain appeal, though blonde and psychopathic really wasn't to Remy's taste. Remy pushed open the sauna to be hit with a blast of steam and heat, with a groan he went to lie down on one of the cedar benches, draping a towel over his hips on the off chance that someone else came in.

The thief lay quietly for a time, letting the heat do its job. He stretched occasionally as muscles loosened, listening to his joints pop. He'd spent the morning squirming through the crawl spaces of the sub-basement, cataloguing the damage that the Goddess' lightning had done to the electronics. The Goddess' anger was why the mansion was lit mostly by candles, and the food in the industrial refrigerators had gone bad - resulting a subtle smell of corruption that permeated the mansion. No one besides him seemed to care - or even notice. Only Hank's refuge and the sub- basement still had power - and that would only last until the generators ran out of fuel. Which - according to the blue scientist - wouldn't be long.

Remy wiped at the sweat beading on his forehead then ran a hand lazily down his chest. He grazed one nipple with a thumb and sighed again. He hated what was going on in this place and he was furious at Jean's treatment of the two men in her power but - the sounds he heard at night made for frustrated dreams and little sleep. "De witch from hell gets two pets to play w'it and Remy? Remy get his left hand, eh."

With a drowsy smile, the young thief slid his hand down underneath the towel. He fingered the sparse prickle of pubic hair for a moment then circled the root of his cock and gave himself a few, gentle pulls. He hummed under his throat, it felt good. Remy shifted the towel and let his legs sprawl on either side of the bench. The roughness of the wood under his back was a pleasant contrast to the soft, wet heat of the sauna. Eyes closed, he pinched one nipple sharply, shuddering a little. His cock jerked in his hand.

The silence and cocoon of steam was soothing but Remy wished he wasn't alone. He wanted someone else here - someone with a mouth like silk and a cock like steel. The memory of Wolverine's dark, troubled eyes came to him and Remy's own eyes snapped open, surprised at the turn of his thoughts but the flex of his cock was pretty unmistakable. He closed his eyes again, there was no harm in a fantasy. An that wild man was certainly a fantasy. He growled more than he spoke and had a wolf's canines and - Remy's hand shifted to roll his balls in his hand - that body was like something out of his darkest dreams. He breathing quickened as he thought of those wide shoulders, the hard power in those broad thighs, the tight ass and - most importantly - the vulnerability hidden under the snarling demeanor and anger. Dieu, to master that power and make it his.

"Remy not hurt you, cher." He murmured to the empty room. Remy's hand curled around his hard cock and his hips shifted, lifting to thrust into his loose fist. No, he wouldn't hurt that man - he wouldn't break him like the witch was trying to do. He'd *tame* him, gentle him with honey and coax him with pleasure until he had that Wolverine eating out of his hands. Remy's free hand closed spasmodically on the towel as he imagined Wolverine kneeling at his feet, licking the palm of his hand. Remy's tag would hang from the man's collar and those incredible arms would be bound behind his back with black leather straps.

Remy was groaning under his breath, hand pumping his leaking cock, eyes tightly shut. Sweat and condensed steam streaked his skin like kisses.

He'd let the man suck on his fingers, meeting those hungry dark eyes until the Wolverine's soft, pleading whimpers tempted him and he reward the man with a taste of his cock.

"Ah - ah - dat's my pet." Remy breathed, imagining sliding his cock into the wet heat of the man's mouth and the hungry suckling. The Wolverine would nuzzle at his crotch, begging sweetly for more. Remy would give it to him. "Petite cub, dat's so good - you be good fer y'master cher."

Abruptly, Remy arched up with a gasp. The muscles on his belly shuddered as he came in his hand and the damp towel still draped over his hips. He sagged down, eyes half closed and glassy. He dipped a fingertip in his own warm cum and licked lazily. 

"Y'a bad, bad man, Remy." He whispered. "How long you gonna be satisfied w'it a fantasy, eh?"


End file.
